


all that shines

by peradi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel being adorable, Fluff, M/M, Stargazing, musings on the universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:27:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peradi/pseuds/peradi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans have look to the stars. Castiel knows that the real miracles, the real heart-stopping beauty, is what is here on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that shines

**Author's Note:**

> just fluffy nonsense

The sky, Castiel wants to say, is nothing to aspire to. It is cold and limitless and dead. There is nothing out there but stars and void. There e arno distant worlds with new life exploring the surface, no aliens, nothing beyond this world, this atmosphere. God made a vast and endless universe and rejoiced in its silence; and then he made this world, teeming with life, for His pleasure.

And made no other.

There is nothing in the sky to aspire to, Castiel wants to say. The Heavenly City cannot be found by flying upwards, no more than Hell can be accessed by digging down. Stars are balls of burning gas, and then they die, and collapse in on themselves until they are nothing but a sucking pit of nothing -- when he was a fledgeling he and his brothers used to play with them, skidding round the edges until a garrison leader called them away.

Nothing up there, Castiel wants to say. It is hollow -- beautiful, maybe, but dark and desolate. The gulf between stars is nothing. The air is freezing, and humans cannot breathe it.

There is no point reaching up; there is no one there to greet.

Humanity chitter-chatters all day long, singing out into the endless black. They want so desperately to find a friend, a fellow species, something to converse with -- but they will chatter forever and never receive a response beyond a flare of static generated by an angel annoyed at the flicker-song of white noise.  

 _We are here, notice us, talk to us_ \-- the cry of humanity.

It is endearing, and it is tragic.

Humanity are alone in the universe.

Castiel wants to say this. He does. The words line his throat, judder onto his tongue: the truth; the brutalism of the universe. Dean is his friend, and Dean deserves the truth.

But Dean is leaning on the hood of the Impala, and Sam slumbers in the back seat, and they are surrounded by uncharted acres of desert. Stars -- now long dead; their light takes a lifetime to arrive -- shine above them, bites of silver in the flank of the sky.

They reflect in Dean’s eyes.

“Isn’t it beautiful Cas?” says Dean. He gestures at the sky, somehow encompassing it all in one abortive motion of his wrist.

Something great and painful swells in Castiel’s chest. He stares at Dean. He thinks of how humans look to the sky, missing the miracles of earth.

Very carefully, Cas rests his index finger on Dean’s knuckle. Either Dean does not notice, or he does not mind.

“Yes,” Castiel says, and he’s not looking at the stars at all. “It is.”

 

 


End file.
